Parched
by meterbroken
Summary: Can Haru be more than a pretty boy with facial hair? Zuko has over 230 pages of fan-fic stories. Haru has 3. My personal challenge: Turn SuperStash into a hero. A hot hero. No, I'm not kidding. Please help me, brave and curious readers. Post season-finale


_While posting chapter 1 of Culture Shock, I accidentally selected Haru as a main character. I fixed it right away (thanks, Wren Sharpbeak!) but have had Haru on the brain ever since. _

_I usually don't write outside of canon time, but Haru strikes me as someone who might grow much more interesting as he gets older._

Dust and small stones were loosed from the roof of the cave where the Coal Benders had set-up makeshift headquarters. Haru unrolled a note under a glowing cluster of green crystals, one hand holding the small document in place, the other over his head as he bent debris away to create a bubble of clean air.

This scroll might contain some news of the Avatar's group.

News of the Fire Lord's defeat had spread quickly, but after 8 months, the deeds of the Avatar and his companions had become too much legend and not enough fact. This part of the Earth Kingdom was still in chaos, and communications from the White Lotus network were rare.

News of the Gaang, of Katara, was more precious to Haru than water. He dropped his bending umbrella to daydream, and was quickly covered in pebbles and dust. He didn't bother bending himself clean. He was filthy all the time, anyway.

Three months ago, she was in the Earth Kingdom. Reports of the reclamation of Serpent's Pass had reached the corners of the world. Haru's little patch of land was a tiny corner, indeed.

He ran his hand though his hair, which was cropped short now, in the style of the rebels. Water was too rare to waste on excessive bathing, and short hair was easier to keep clean. Haru found shaving inconvenient, but a sharp stone knife could be made anywhere, and he was used to the scratchy stubble that now covered his once-smooth skin.

He had been burned, bruised, and cut so often in the past few months that he barely noticed his own blood crusted on his cheek. It was itchy. That wasn't new, either.

The Coal Benders needed a water bender who could heal the wounded and draw the groundwater up more efficiently than an earth bender. Haru let the dirt fall on his head, but protected the scroll. It didn't mention anyone from the Gaang, and the news it contained was a terrible blow to the Coal Benders.

It would take several more months to bring peace to this region - months without enough water.

Haru stuffed the note in his pocket, and navigated the shaking caves with the steady legs of a sailor. He knew that his father had already read the news. The water bender that the White Lotus network had sent to bring them relief, a frail old woman from the Northern Tribe, had been killed on the road.

Haru stood before his father with blood and an unspoken question on his face.

The leader of the Coal Benders did not want to lose his only son. He knew that Haru was in constant danger, but at least they had stayed together. So when he saw the crumpled note in Haru's hand, and the desperation in his eyes, the old man tried very hard not remember the last time he saw that look. He failed.

"I will not let this family be divided again!" Katara had shouted, when the Gaang declared that they were leaving again to fight the Fire Lord.

He had wanted to stop them, to rage at the injustice of lost innocence. Why were the strongest benders in the world a bunch of children? But he couldn't speak; even after the rebellion on the ship, he remained in the habit of silence. He remained a Fire Nation prisoner.

He had looked to Hakota to give some parental objection, and was disappointed. He had gripped Haru's arm painfully when the water tribe family said goodbye.

Haru had tried to break away when Sokka ran back, but the water warrior's hand had reached out for a girl, and then they were gone. No one had even glanced at his son.

He had been relieved; his boy would stay to fight by his side. But he had seen the look in Haru's eyes. He saw the pain of rejection. He also saw love, and it terrified him.

Now his son stood before him, a ragged young man drawn taught with desperation and thirst. His son was a hero. He had grown taller, and stronger, and led their people with quiet confidence. Now loyalty struggled with desire in his face, and his green eyes were bright with need.

It was time to follow Hakota's example. He pulled Haru into a rough embrace. "Find them," was all the old man could say.

For the first time in months, Haru smiled.


End file.
